Hero Rising
by sburbiangodtier
Summary: “God saved you to be our deliverer.” Arthur said. “And you are, Alfred! You are the deliverer.” Full summary inside. Rated T for now for violence, language, and mature themes. May move up to M later. Various pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**Hero Rising**

**Rating: T**

**Characters: All**

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**Full summary: **_**The year: 2036. The Third World War is over, and Russia has taken over the world. But with one fateful decision and divine destiny, history is about to change. A modernized re-telling of "The Prince of Egypt", Hetalia style. **_

**This might be kind of weird, but this is more of an AU story where America doesn't really exist yet as a country. He's still a baby under England. I know, it doesn't make sense, but it works for the story. So yeah. **

**Human names will be used, as will be country names. **

**Inspiration comes from the movie "The Prince of Egypt" as well as too many songs to name, and also from Hetalia, for being epic like that. **

**Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya forever. **

**Please enjoy my cracktastic idea. :3**

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_Prologue_

_London, 2035_

The sounds of muffled explosions could be heard in the distance as the Russian forces marched forward, leaving in their wake a trail of bloody footprints leading back to the ruins of what had once been London.

Arthur Kirkland looked out over the carnage and remains of his once-beloved capital, shivering violently despite the ferocious heat of the flames engulfing the city, as far as his emerald eyes could see. How could this have happened? How could he have been brought down so easily?

Really, it should have been painfully obvious who was going to win this war when Russia introduced the newest upgrade in his nuclear warhead technology. It had been clear even from the beginning, and yet every country had fought anyway, struggling to keep their countries from falling under the red flag of Communism.

He'd known it was only a matter of time, really, as over the last six years, every country, starting with the weakest, had fallen to the unstoppable Russian Federation. The Baltic nations had been the first to fall, though that wasn't really a surprise to the Briton, as they had belonged to Russia before. But when countries like Germany and Japan and even Italy, who was weak but never weak enough for Ivan Braginsky to take before, fell to the Russian's power, England had started to worry.

And now…now in a matter of just under an hour's worth of fighting and bloodshed, he had succumbed to the same fate, albeit just as unwillingly as the rest of them had.

His hands shook. He'd been the world's last surviving hope, and that hope had been extinguished, like a candle's flame snuffed out in a storm. His thoughts turned to his adopted brother-son, Alfred, who was just a baby. How could he have failed Alfred so badly, fighting to keep his beloved son free from Russia's evil dominance, and lost? The dirty-blonde shuddered to think of what might befall Alfred now that they had lost the war.

Arthur turned to face the east, where the Russian troops were still pulling out of the battered and beaten country, and locked eyes with Ivan himself, who had stayed behind. The tall blonde man raised his arm, bloodied fingers curling in a little wave as the most cruelest of childish smiles grew on his lips, and Arthur clenched his own hands, wishing that he was not so weak and powerless so he could take down the damned Russian once and for all.

Ivan put his hands on Arthur's thin shoulders, leering down at the once-powerful empire, and said the words that turned the Brit's heart to ice.

"You are now one with Russia."

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**Just a short prologue to introduce the story. I swear it will move forward! Reviews are like chocolate to me! And please, if you have any ideas, do share them with me. I like those just as much as reviews! :3**


	2. The Cry of an Enslaved World

**Chapter 1**

"**The Cry of an Enslaved World"**

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_December, 2036_

_Southeast of Moscow, Russia _

As far as the eye could see, the view was nothing but a swirling cloud of white and ice. It was cold. Bitter cold. So cold that the icy wind bit through clothing like it wasn't even there.

But Arthur Kirkland was used to the cold. He stamped his feet, blowing on his hands to warm them, not that the action helped much. His breath felt frozen in his lungs. He could scarcely draw in a good gulp of much needed oxygen in this weather. He'd long forgotten the comfort of a nice cup of hot tea and the glow of a merrily cracking fire in his fireplace.

The Briton scanned the horizon again, this time, seeing past the sharp flecks of white ice that threatened to blind him, and seeing the shadow of the sculpture. A memorial that Ivan had ordered them all to build, out here in the middle of nowhere. He could make out the near-frozen figures of his friends.

Toris Lorinaitis smiled grimly at him, his former neatly-tousled brunette locks whipping around his face in shaggy clumps, and his frame, thin with malnourishment and abuse. The poor Lithuanian had been through hell in the past year. Seeing as how he had once been under Russia's power, Ivan apparently thought that fact alone was strong enough to justify how he treated Toris like a toy.

Arthur ground his teeth together. The truth was, not only were they slaves to that maniac and his sister, Natalia, but they were also Ivan's playthings, to be called upon occasionally, and please the Russian in his every whim. But Toris got the worst of it. Him, and Feliks Łukasiewicz, who had taken Toris under his wing once the brunette had gained his freedom.

His eyes wandered again, this time landing on a pitiful sight. Feliciano Vargas, hunched over in the knee-deep snow, under the looming shadow of a Russian soldier. The bright vivacity that had once burned inside of the little Italian like a beacon of hope to all who encountered him had been burned out, leaving behind the lifeless, lethargic shell of the boy, who could not even eat pasta anymore. He was not very strong to begin with, and now, broken and bleeding under the pressure from the Russian Federation, Feliciano was barely able to pick up a shovel. Arthur watched, tears freezing in the corners of his eyes, as the soldier leaned down and pulled the brunette to his feet by his hair, completely and heartlessly disregarding the curl, which before had bounced in time with Feliciano's merry attitude, now hung limp with stress and mishandling. One could touch that curl now, and the Italian wouldn't even flinch.

"Have mercy…can't you hear your nations crying out to you for help?" Arthur whispered to the sky, wiping at the icy moisture in his eyes before going back to his task at hand. He knew all too well that if he was caught standing idly like this, the soldiers would have no qualms about laying a whip to his back.

Memory served him all too well. Arthur sighed as he tried in vain to recount every time he'd been whipped until his back was nearly unrecognizable as belonging to something even remotely human. They'd beaten down Kiku until he had looked like something akin to roadkill alongside a deserted road. Even Ludwig, marred for life. Marked for what he was. For what they all were. No more than slaves to one man's right hand. Ivan merely had to say the word or wag a finger, and they could all be sent to the Chamber.

The Chamber was what Ivan liked to affectionately call his "Playhouse". It was filled with every sort of torture device you could name or think of, ranging from the 15th century to present day. Tools of all sorts hung on the white walls, all of them unwashed, unsanitized, and splattered with the blood of the innocents that had been wounded at Russia's hands. And it was a known fact that if you didn't die from the torture itself, you were going to die from infection and disease, caused by the unsanitary conditions of the objects used. That, in Arthur's opinion, was the crueler of ways to die. It was slow, agonizing, and goddamned painful. You were dying of blood loss from the means of torture, and at the same time, your body was poisoned with every sort of disease and infection known to living man or Nation. It was like the Black Plague, only multiplied by ten thousand.

He shuddered. This was far worse than anything he could have ever dreamed of, and that was the problem. It wasn't just some dream he could wake up from. It was a nightmare. For him and for everyone else too.

But it was harder for him, because he had the hardest job of all. Keeping his precious brother-son, Alfred, from the eyes and knowledge of the Russian Federation. Alfred was a Nation, that much was true, but as Arthur had fallen to Russia, Alfred had no opportunity to grow and be nurtured, the way a young Nation was supposed to be. Therefore, he was just as young as he had been over a year and a half ago, when the nightmare had begun.

Arthur was just glad that neither Ivan nor Natalia could read minds.

That was another thing all on its own. Ivan and Natalia. Mind you, theirs was an alliance of convenience, at least on the Russian's part. Natalia had what it took to help him keep the weak and fallen Nations in line, and therefore he was hard-pressed to keep her around. For Belarus, it was a dream come true. Lucky little bitch got to have all of her bloody-wonderful dreams. It wasn't fair. But then, what was ever really fair in life at all?

Ukraine, on the other hand, was far kinder than her younger brother and sister ever would be. Although she was considered a ruling power in the Soviet, she took no part in the dealings that Ivan dished out on all of the Nations. In fact, she'd saved all of their asses from Ivan's sick mind-state many a time. Too many times for them to count, to thank her.

The wind howled around his makeshift muffler, made out of his one and only blanket. Ah well, looked like he was going to be staying up extra late again tonight to thaw the damn thing out before he could actually use it. After all, none of the others in his compound had any extra blankets to spare. Arthur shivered, trying in vain to move quickly, so the soldiers wouldn't take this opportunity to beat him into an actually blissful state of unconsciousness.

He couldn't feel his feet anymore in his patched leather boots. They were the very same ones he'd worn over a year ago, and even longer before that. He'd always kept his clothing in meticulous condition…and here, he found his olive green military suit in such a tattered state. The cuffs on his pants and wrists were starting to fray quite badly. His elbows had worn clean through and couldn't be patched anymore, no matter how thin Berwald stretched the flimsy material he somehow managed to keep in his possession.

Arthur stamped his feet again. He needed to count his blessings. Not his curses. At least he wasn't as bad off as Lovino, Feliciano's twin, whose feet had grown horrifyingly frostbitten in the harsh Russian winter, so unlike his mostly mild climate back home in Italy. Now Antonio carried him everywhere, helping him work in every way he could, and protecting him from the Russian forces. At this point, the last thing any of the battered nations needed were their comrades disappearing in the night, taken away because of their inability to work properly.

But little did Arthur Kirkland know just then that the worst that he could imagine, would indeed happen. For anything that comes out of your worst nightmares is a grim reality when in Ivan Braginsky's cold hands.

~*~

_Ivan's Headquarters_

_Five miles south of Moscow_

_December, 2036_

"Please stop pacing like that, brother! You'll grow old before your time!"

Ivan Braginsky sighed loudly, glaring at the blonde girl, who had sat herself down in the giant chair behind the mahogany desk situated in the very center of the room. Natalia was sitting in his favorite chair, a fact that she knew quite well, and yet chose to ignore. The platinum-blonde Russian ground his teeth together, muttering a low stream of _"Kolkolkol"_s under his breath to placate himself. For now anyways.

Besides, he had bigger problems than the one that sat smugly across from where he stood. Natalia was a mediocre anomaly compared to the fact that construction on his "Global Federation" memorials were not going as quickly as he had hoped.

Gloved hands clenched over the water pipe he held, for a brief moment wishing it was someone's skull—he didn't care whose it was—being crushed beneath them instead of mere metal.

Ever since he'd taken all of the other Nations under his watchful wing over a year ago, it seemed that all they ever did was complain. The work was too hard, the winter was too cold, Ivan was such a bastard for doing this to them. Blah, blah, blah. Frankly, he had done the weakling nations a _favor_ by putting them to work! He was going to create a brand-new world power. One unlike any empire before had seen.

And if the others were going to share it with him, they were going to have to work for it. It was as simple as that.

But now, the building of the memorials was far behind schedule. Why? He had his best soldiers keeping an eye on the laborers day and night, keeping the fools in line. So why weren't things going according to his plans?

Ivan stopped his pacing in favor of staring out the bay window that faced the South. In the distance, he could see the construction of one such monument, the one that bore the all-important Bloody Sunflower. The symbol of the Global Federation of the People's Republic.

A smile lurked in the corner's of the blonde's lips at the sight. But it quickly faded when he remembered his previous train of thought.

"Natalia, how many have been treated by the infirmary at the base compound so far?" He asked without casting a glance back.

The girl pursed her lips for a moment, shuffling through a few files before finally answering. "About half of them were in-and-out patients, brother. But there are still a few that cannot work due to their illnesses or injuries."

There it was. The crux of his dilemma. "Why are we giving them time off?" This was said with the slightest edge to his voice. "It is not our problem that they are not careful enough when they're working, da? Why should my plans have to suffer because of their negligence and stupidity?" The pipe in his hands was beginning to protest under the tight grip he held it in.

From behind him, there came a soft laugh, then the sound of footsteps approaching him. Arms encircled his waist, Natalia nuzzling into his back, and Ivan growled slightly. If he'd told the witch once, he'd told her a thousand and one times that she was never to touch him like this. Just because they were allies did not mean that she could treat him as if he were her lover. Of course, it was Natalia. So she naturally ignored pretty much anything that Ivan told her that pertained to matters such as personal space. But with her next words, all of that thought flew out of the window, much like the proverbial bird from its cage.

"If it troubles you so much, brother, why not send out the Police to exterminate all of those who are no longer of any use to our cause. Like those bothersome Italian brothers. Useless, the both of them. And because the older one is so useless, it is making the Spaniard slow in his work. Because he is fool enough to believe that carrying the little ball-and-chain around everywhere is going to save the boy's life!" Natalia's lips twisted into a distasteful sneer. "See? When one nation is useless, it causes a chain reaction. The more distractions and liabilities there are, the less work gets done."

As much as Ivan hated to admit it, Natalia had an exceedingly good point. He only wished that he had thought of it in the first place. But the Russian did not state this fact. He merely sniffed and nodded thoughtfully. "I see what you mean. Yes…that is a very good idea. Send out the Police…get rid of the burdens…and work will move forward as planned."

The smirk that had appeared on Ivan's face only moments before returned in full force, spreading until it stretched across his face. Piercing violet eyes darkened with the pleasure of the coming bloodshed. A pink tongue licked across wind-chapped lips hungrily, as if tasting that sweet metallic scent already.

"I'll have our best guards on it right away, brother." Natalia said, releasing Russia from her grip and hurrying out of the room. But Ivan stayed by the window, staring out at the horizon once again.

The color red had never been so appealing.

~*~

_Slave Compound No. 4_

_Later that night_

"T'ris! G't yerself in h're outta th' cold!" Berwald Oxenstierna pulled the shaking man out of the snow squall into their compound. Toris was in tears. At least it seemed that way. It was kind of hard to tell because all that Arthur could see were frozen lumps and trails on his cheeks and chin.

"I-I-I-Ivan's…going to…k-k-kill…" Toris sobbed into his hands, Berwald and Tino covering him with their own blankets, trying to warm him up. But the brunette had persisted in trying to talk. "We've g-gotta warn F-Feliciano and Lov-v-vino! And…oh g-god…Raivis!"

"Slow down, Toris!" Arthur urged, blowing on his hands before prying the Lithuanian's ice-caked boots off of his legs and feet. Immediately he set to work massaging the boy's feet, trying to bring them back from near-freezing. "Calm down and tell us what you heard. Why are Feliciano, Lovino, and Raivis in danger?"

Toris breathed in deeply for a few moments, seeming to regain his composure before continuing. "I overheard Natalia and Ivan talking earlier today, and they're not happy with the way we've been falling behind schedule with these ridiculous monuments. So…they're…they're…" His voice caught in his throat yet again, and Arthur watching him close his eyes, pulling in a few shuddering gasps. "They're sending out the Secret Police. They're coming for our sick and wounded. They're coming for the ones who can't work. They're going to kill them."

Arthur felt like someone had dumped freezing cold water over his very bones, and it wasn't from the cold. The Secret Police. The most feared of all of the Russia Guard. They were the ones who did Ivan's dirty work, the stuff that he couldn't bother to bloody his pristine leather gloves with.

Immediately, his thoughts jumped to Alfred, who was currently sleeping serenely in a nest of blankets graciously given to him for the night by Francis and Matthew. His precious baby had no idea of the danger that awaited him. Just gazing at that peaceful face made Arthur's heart falter for a moment, and he clenched his fists.

The Secret Police would leave no stone unturned, as it were. If they searched the compound, they would find Alfred, and not only would Arthur had to watch the massacre of his beloved child, but he could also be killed for concealing him. Somehow, the latter did not sound as bad as it should have, given the former were to happen first. If Alfred went, then Arthur figured that he'd rather die too than face this cruel new world without him.

"Alfred…" He whispered, leaning down to pick up the baby boy, who never once stirred, and nuzzled his soft baby cheek. "I promised to always protect you, and I hold to that promise."

Somewhere in his heart, Arthur knew what had to be done. He must try to keep Alfred safe at all costs, even if it meant sacrifice. "Toris, I need your help." He said slowly.

Toris looked up at the Briton from his cup of lukewarm coffee that Matthew had put on for him, confusion on his face. "What for?"

"Keeping Alfred hidden for this long will not be for naught. I will protect him, if it's the last thing I ever do."

Arthur didn't wait for a reply as he turned away, staring into the still-peaceful face of his brother-son. He memorized the golden tufts of hair, the supple lips, and even though he couldn't see them right now, Arthur memorized those beautiful sapphire eyes. America was indeed a beautiful child, and the Englishman could only hope he'd stay that way.

The baby nestled in his arms began to stir, making the stress around Arthur's heart squeeze even tighter than before, and he sang softly his prayer of hope for the child, doing his best to calm him into a deep slumber once again.

_  
"My good and tender brother,  
Don't be frightened and don't be scared…  
Alfred, I have nothing I can give,  
But this chance that you may live.  
I pray we'll meet again  
If He will deliver us."_

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**Tell me how you liked the first chapter so far! I love reviews like I love England's Iggybrows, so please don't be shy! :D**

**Hopefully the next chapter can get things really moving. But one step at a time, da? XD**

**The lyrics at the end of the chapter come from the song "Deliver Us" from "The Prince of Egypt". They're the first words Moses' mother sings to him in the beginning scene. **


	3. Author's Note Update

Hey guys! It's me, Yeni, after an entire year of being away on writer's block leave. I realize that lots of you have been waiting for chapter 2 of this story...and unfortunately, it's not coming with this update. ;_; This year-long writer's block has a tight grip on me, and though I'm trying to work my way out of it, chapter 2 is not more than a few paragraphs long. OTL

If any of you have any suggestions or hints on what to do in this story (or to just kick me out of writer's block altogether) let me know! I could really use the help right now!

But I am going to put up a USxUK story that I did write back in January for the USxUK Kink Meme over on LiveJournal that I de-anoned recently, so if any of you are interested, look forward to that. :3

Hope to see you guys soon!

Yeni (Hamburger Hero)


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